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I had indeed noticed two or three middle-aged women traveling with (and paying the way for) younger Sri Lankan men.
And Sampath said he also had a couple of friends who were devoted—and successful—seducers of younger tourists.
She’d asked me if she could practice her English with me; we spent most of the next week together.
“Boys are allowed to stay out as late as they want? Boys have no problem.” “That’s not fair.” “No, is not fair,” Sarasi said slowly, washing her rice-covered hands in the bowl of water on the table.
While I was reading in his garden one afternoon, a group of red-faced men in sarongs gathered nearby and belted out raucous renditions of folk songs.
It was Sampath and his friends chewing betel leaf and passing around a bottle of arrack, Sri Lanka’s dangerously smooth coconut liquor.
Yet widows are widely seen as “easy” because of their vulnerability (few men would marry a “used” woman), and white women are taunted with jeers like, “Do you like the f**king?
It would take me at least that long to walk back to my guesthouse, but I wasn’t too worried about being accosted by demons on the way. ” I asked Sarasi, a 19-year-old college student I’d met while walking around Kandy Lake in central Sri Lanka.On a packed bus later that day, I thought of other, smaller cultural transgressions I’d witnessed: white girls wearing tank tops or skirts that came above their knees, white girls drinking beer with Sri Lankan guys.